


The Man with the Child in his Eyes

by Ooshka



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Enchanted Forest, Captain Duckling, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 10:33:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8574940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ooshka/pseuds/Ooshka
Summary: A life spent studying magic has left Princess Emma no closer to understanding the role she’d been given at birth, that of the Saviour.  Frustrated, she discovers a mirror in a forgotten corner of the castle and, trapped within it, a man long thought dead.Killian Jones had run foul of the Evil Queen, trapped by a magic that hadn’t perished with her.  Now, thanks to a curious princess, he has a chance at freedom again.  But for Emma to free him, she’s willing to pay a terrible price, one that might take away all their chances of a happy ending forever.  Will she truly be the Saviour she’s destined to be, or is she fated to simply be the Dark One’s puppet?





	

**Author's Note:**

> I have been a little bit blocked with my other writing, but managed to get this written. The title, and much inspiration, is from the Kate Bush song of the same name, and visual inspiration came from the prompt by Seastarved on Tumblr.  
> Hope you enjoy!

 

Emma had always known that there were rooms in the castle that you weren't supposed to go into. Dark spaces, guarded by heavy doors at the top of twisty sets of stairs. Rooms that still reeked of the Evil Queen's magic no matter how many cleansing spells the fairies had performed.

But Emma was reckless and bold and, well, Emma was hiding from the Blue Fairy in a place she knew her teacher would never willingly fly into.

It was not that Emma disliked the fairy herself but she found the endless magic lessons taxing. Emma had magic, had always had magic, but it was unpredictable and often did not work at all. Unlike her mother Snow White, who was filled with enough hope to galvanise an entire country behind her crusade to rid the land of the Evil Queen, or her father, whose courage knew no limits, Emma's gift was muted and often seemed to have little or no benefit.

And yet that did not stop her mother's, somewhat tireless, belief that all Emma needed was more practice, more focus, more time. More of everything that simply drove Emma here, to this dark and dusty room in a dank corner of the castle.

She drifted around, looking for something that might amuse her. Most of the contents of the room were covered in a fine layer of dust and none of them were particularly exciting. A chest that contained nothing but a ship in the bottle with cracked glass, a broken candelabra and an unflattering portrait of a long-dead ancestor were all examined by Emma, but none held her interest.

The last thing in the room was covered by a dust sheet and, holding her breath, Emma pulled it off onto the floor, expecting to uncover some ugly hunk of furniture banished to this corner of the castle. Instead she found a large mirror, cleaner than she would have expected, with a handsome dark-wood frame.

Mirrors were scarce in the castle, although not completely forbidden. Mirror magic, however, was spoken about only in hushed tones and had been dismissed completely by the Blue Fairy the one time Emma had tried to discuss it during a lesson. Mirror magic had been the domain of the Evil Queen, a woman who had once imprisoned her own mother in a mirror realm. And although she had been dead a long time, there were still the odd charms that might have survived her demise.

Mirrors were dangerous and Emma wanted something dangerous right at that moment. She stood still and watched her reflection carefully, looking for any sign that the mirror was more than it appeared to be.

But only another Emma looked back at her, its brow furrowed and its mouth down-turned. Hardly an image that could compare to the princess her mother had once been. This princess looked tired and drawn, burdened with the expectations of a nation that had no real need for the thing she'd been prophesised to become; a Saviour.

Her reflection unchanging after long moments of contemplation, Emma turned away and that's when she saw it. Or thought she saw something. Something black that swirled around the edges of the mirror so quickly that she wasn't sure that she'd even really seen it.

Another half hour's wait proved fruitless, and in the end Emma covered the mirror up again and left feeling no better than she had when she arrived.

* * *

Nearly a week passed before Emma thought to visit the room again. It had been a particularly trying morning, during which she'd failed to make roses bloom despite all the Blue Fairy's instructions, and, to make it worse, her failure had been under the watchful eye of her mother whose encouraging smile was betrayed by the sadness Emma could see in her eyes.

She just wanted to hide away for a while and lick her wounds. She hadn't even thought about the mirror itself being there, but once she was in front of it again curiosity got the better of her and she pulled the dust sheet off again.

This time Emma could have sworn there was a glimmer of shimmering light as the mirrors bright surface was revealed to her. But once again the only thing it showed her was Emma, the princess who couldn't. On impulse she waved a hand, but was only rewarded by the sight of herself waving back.

It just infuriated Emma. She wasn't even allowed a small adventure of her own, something outside the bounds of her circumscribed life. She might as well have been a princess in a tower for all that she ever got to live her own life, cooped up and trained and trained in the hope she'd magically become whatever a Saviour was meant to be when really she was just Emma, she was just ordinary, she was just so tired of everything and she…

The mirror flickered. Like a pond after a stone had been dropped into it, ripples spread out from the middle and the surface became fluid, almost as though Emma could dip a hand right into it.

Then it stopped, suddenly, and she was back to staring at her own reflection.

This just served to make Emma even more furious. She felt the hot prick of anger at the back of her neck and was about to yell something quite unladylike when, suddenly, a bright light burst forth out of the mirror and she wasn't looking at her own reflection any longer, but darkness.

After a moment or so, Emma realised it wasn't just darkness. It was _somewhere_ , somewhere that looked awfully like a dungeon, or perhaps a cave. She could see what looked like water running down and she could have sworn that the temperature had dropped suddenly.

Emma heard footsteps, and a male voice called out "Is someone there?" and she threw the sheet back over the mirror and hurried from the room without looking back.

* * *

All the magic lessons she had ever studied had failed to make Emma as curious as the mirror did, and she was back after a day or so to see if she could once again glimpse the strange world it revealed.

This time it only took moments before the mirror's surface changed into the image she'd seen previously. Or at least it was partly the same; it still looked like a cave, but now Emma could see what looked like furniture. There was a desk, and a chair and something that could have been a bed.

But the place was deserted, and whoever had spoken before was no longer there. Emma left feeling deflated.

It was only hours later, after she had spent the afternoon mulling over the puzzle of the mirror while half-listening to her mother talk about re-organising the household staff that she realised something. If this was mirror magic then there had to be another mirror in the other world, and if her view of the cave had changed then someone must have moved that mirror.

After dinner, she went back.

With one wave of her hand the mirror revealed the same scene as before, except that this time someone was sitting at the desk. Although Emma had anticipated the possibility of seeing someone, she still jumped slightly at the sight.

The person on the other side exhibited no such surprise. His…and it was definitely a man…head was rested on the desk and, for a moment, Emma wondered if perhaps he was asleep. But then he lifted his face, which seemed very white in the gloom of the cave, and looked straight at her.

"So you are real then," he said, and Emma couldn't tell whether he considered this to be a good thing or not, but she confirmed it anyway.

"I am."

"I thought you might have been a figment of my imagination. Or the drink." He laughed hollowly and took a swig from a flask that had been sitting on the desk.

Emma tried to ignore the beating of her heart and how clammy her palms felt and focus on the person in front of her. If anything happened, if she was called to explain how she'd accidentally on purpose summoned an agent of the Evil Queen then it would be useful if she could describe the villain in question.

Although perhaps she was being a little hasty in labelling him such. He was…not what she expected. Dark hair, dark clothing and the pale skin of his face brightened only by the blue of his eyes when he refocused them on her.

Emma had never felt quite so exposed.

"Are you a fairy? Or a witch?"

"No."

"But you have magic, yes?"

"Not to speak of." Emma wasn't about to own up to her shortcomings in that department.

"And yet…here we are, speaking to each other." He raised one eyebrow in challenge.

"I stumbled upon this mirror. I don't know how to make it work."

"You stumbled upon it the other day…and came back again. Does she know?" He narrowed his eyes suspiciously and Emma stood up a little straighter.

"Does who know?"

"Your…mistress." He spat the second word out as though it was poison and took another drink.

Emma opened her mouth to reply that she had no mistress, but thought better of it. She knew very little about the person she was speaking to and, as reckless as this whole enterprise had been, some caution might now be in order. Better to not be a princess for the time being.

"My mistress is wise and good, and you should be ashamed of yourself for speaking so badly of her. It does you no credit at all."

"If you've been so duped by the Evil Queen, girl, then I suspect that it is you whose character needs to be questioned."

"The Evil…oh. No. The Evil Queen has been dead for nearly 20 years now."

Emma watched as disbelief crossed the man's face. "You're lying. This is just a trap to bring me back to her side."

"No. I assure you, she is gone. And we are all glad of it."

"Then I've been marooned here all this time for nothing." His words were sad, and Emma wished that she could say something that would make the situation more palatable for him.

"Perhaps I could try to get you out?" she ventured, wondering why on earth she would want to do something so risky.

"I thought you had no magic?"

"No. But the mirror seems to be working on its own." Emma stepped forwards and touched her fingers to the glass. The surface was liquid under her touch but her fingers soon found something cold and solid that prevented her from pressing any further.

"I'm sorry," she said, dropping her hands back down. "It's no use."

The worst part was that the man on the other side didn't even seem that disappointed, just resigned. He took another drink. "Probably just as well, love. I'm hardly great company after all this time by myself."

Emma was about to say something else, perhaps even to reveal her real identity and promise to do all she could to help him, but then she noticed a flash of something against the desk and realised that where his left hand should be, he instead wore a large, silver hook. It looked lethal, and she felt fear working its way back down her spine.

"I'm sorry. I have to go now."

He didn't even say goodbye as she covered up the mirror again.

* * *

The man played on her mind over the next two days, making her distracted and irritable and completely unfit for any lessons from the Blue Fairy, whose usual air of calm inscrutability was appearing frayed at the edges after several hours spent chiding Emma to keep her mind on her task.

Magic was coming to her no easier now, and that frustrated her further. If only she could simply let the man out of his prison and send him on his way, then she wouldn't have to spend all this time thinking about him. She threw a cup across the room in anger and watched it shatter against the wall.

If only she could do the same to the mirror.

Her mother had sensed her frustration, but not realised the source. Or, perhaps, this was just one of a myriad of frustrations that had plagued Emma as she reached adulthood but was no closer to understanding just what kind of a role she was meant to play.

Either way Queen Snow's solution was to offer Emma the chance to have her own household staff, and Emma had to endure the terminal boredom of being introduced to her new steward Mr Gold, while pretending that her mother's gesture had made her all the more content with her life. Really, what would please her the most would be to free that man from the cave, villain or not, and show everyone that she was truly was a Saviour.

Emma returned to the mirror, uncertain of what sort of a reception she would receive given her previous abrupt departure. The man didn't seem at all surprised to see her.

"I'm sorry I left so quickly the other day. I had duties to attend to," Emma said, which wasn't a complete lie after all.

"Aye. Well. I've no place to be so I'm always here…what's your name anyway?"

"Emma."

"Emma…" He spoke it thoughtfully, and with a lilt in his voice that was pleasant, and quite different to the voices she was used to hearing on a daily basis. Any misgivings she may have had about sharing her name with this person faded at the pleasure she felt in hearing him say it.

"Have you found a way to free me, Emma?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm afraid that whatever spell was used, its details would have died with the Evil Queen. In fact no one even knew this mirror was here…it's been shut away in a tower for a long time now."

"But it's still in the castle?"

"Well…yes."

The man looked thoughtful. "Then you serve the new queen. That girl…the one who ran away to be a bandit?"

"Yes."

"I met her once. Should have bloody asked for clemency when I had the chance." His mood seemed to have turned dark and he took a drink from the flask that seemed always to be at hand. "So, Emma. Tell me about the castle, then. How fare you amongst the demands of your betters?"

"I…am well enough. I worry though…how are you faring?"

At her words, the man's eyes suddenly focused very sharply on her face. "You are concerned for…me?"

"Yes. That's why I returned. I thought that perhaps if you just tried to get out then…maybe it would work?"

"Oh, so you think I haven't attempted to pass back through the mirror I was so unceremoniously shoved through?" He sounded sarcastic, which wasn't the reaction Emma had hoped for at all.

"I just thought…that with me here, on this side…"

"Without magic."

"Yes…but, perhaps…if you just try." She gave him, what she hoped, was an encouraging smile.

"Fine. I suppose it won't hurt me. Unless it does, of course, but then…I doubt anyone will exactly mourn my loss."

Emma didn't know quite what to say to that. Denial would have been insincere, given the short time of their acquaintance, and anything else seemed redundant. Instead she waited while he rounded the desk and came closer to the mirror.

It was the first time she'd seen him standing, and she couldn't help but think he was…imposing. Although that didn't feel like quite the right word for it. He was still dressed all in black, the large silver buckle on his belt standing out prominently. And he seemed clean, although his shirt was barely buttoned at all. Emma hadn't seen another man dress quite like that before and it was certainly interesting to watch as he came closer until he filled up the whole mirror.

Then he reached out a hand which sported several heavy rings and made a tapping motion on the glass, which did nothing. "There," he said. "Satisfied now, Lady Emma?"

"No. Not really." Emma felt disappointed, but couldn't tell whether it was on her own behalf, or his. Perhaps both.

"I'm sorry," she said again. "I really thought I could help."

"You're the first…only one in a long time who has. I suppose that's something," he replied.

"Will you tell me your name at least?"

"It hardly matters now, Lady Emma. I'm lost to history." He turned his back to her. "Perhaps it's time you got back to those duties."

She covered up the mirror again and left the room.

* * *

Mr Gold proved to be an attentive servant, and one that Emma found a little difficult to shake. His presence was different to the soothing warmth of her old nurse Joanna, or the demands of the Blue Fairy. He wanted to help her, to ensure that everything she needed was right there at her fingertips. But, even if he had known of his existence, Emma doubted that Mr Gold would be able to do anything about the man stuck in the mirror.

Emma did have one intriguing piece of information to go on and she deliberated for a day or so as to the best way to approach her mother regarding it. In the end she waited until late one night, when Queen Snow was in her chambers preparing for bed, and asked her mother to again tell her the stories about when she was on the run.

"Oh, Emma. You've heard them all before and they're ancient history now. Surely you don't need them again?"

"Not all of them, Mama. There must be something you haven't told me. Some villain who crossed your path, perhaps?"

"Well if you mean the wood-cutter, then I'm sure I've told you the tale of when he shut me in his cart but a kindly traveller rescued me."

"You have, Mama. But did you ever meet anyone else who was just…mysterious. I meet so few people here, and you spent such a long time out in the world. You must have travelled to so many other realms."

Queen Snow picked up her own brush and began to smooth her daughter's hair with it. "Far fewer than I originally intended, for I tried to get a pirate take me away to safety, but I didn't have the riches to pay him."

"A pirate? That must have been dangerous."

"I suppose. But less dangerous than the Evil Queen was at the time. He ran foul of her a short time later and was never heard from again. It was like he was wiped off the face of the earth."

"What was his name?"

"I only know him by the name he used to strike fear into his enemies. Captain Hook."

Armed with this new knowledge, Emma again returned to the room at the top of the stairs and uncovered the mirror. At first her reflection was static, but even before she had lifted her arm the mirror's surface rippled and revealed the man in his cave.

"Ah. The lovely Lady Emma, back again to keep an eye on me."

"I know who you are." Emma was determined to get her accusations out before her nerve failed her.

"Do you now?"

"You're Captain Hook. The pirate Captain Hook."

Emma watched as his brows knit together and his face screwed up in anger. "I am. And there's no point in a fine lady like you wasting time on a scoundrel such as myself, is there? Best be off now, Emma. No good can come of our meeting.

"But I…"

"You already know my story. And you can't help me get out of here. So just go."

Emma left in a hurry, Captain Hook's harsh words ringing in her ears. She thought he'd be pleased that she knew who he was, thought he would realise that he wasn't therefore lost to history, that he lived on in memory if nothing else.

Because surely a lasting legacy, even one composed of violence and villainy, was better than nothing?

But he had spurned her and it hurt.

She nearly knocked down Mr Gold as she passed him one of the castle's narrow passageways. "Are you all right, your highness?" he asked, forcing her to turn and face him.

"I am fine. Just a…little out of sorts. In truth, my magic lessons are somewhat taxing and I am not proving to be a good student. It is more difficult than anyone expected it to be for me."

Mr Gold looked thoughtful. "You know, I am no expert in the magical arts, your highness, but I've heard them spoken of from time to time and the key, at least as I understand it, is to use your emotions. If it makes you so angry, then maybe you could try using that anger when you practice, no?"

Emma thought about that. There did seem to be some sense to his words. "You've certainly given me something to think about, Mr Gold. Thank you for that."

Now, Emma had a plan.

* * *

Emma requested that the mirror moved into her chambers, deciding that if she had her own staff then surely she was free to make her own decisions over décor. The glass unicorns and wooden wardrobe that had been placed there before her birth would still remain, but she would like something that she had chosen herself. At least that was the reason she gave Mr Gold when she asked him to arrange it. To her mother, Emma said nothing, knowing the queen's distaste for mirrors had not abated since she'd smashed the one purported to lead to the Evil Queen's mother.

There had been bad blood there and Emma had no wish to dredge up old memories.

She waited until she was alone in the room before she uncovered the mirror and watched as it revealed the cave to her. It took a moment, and then the familiar ripples appeared and so did Captain Hook, looking less than pleased by her intrusion.

"Will you not allow me any peace whatsoever?"

"No…I…" Emma did not get her next words out, as Captain Hook, who had been studying the area surrounding her intently, suddenly spoke.

"You have moved the mirror."

"Yes. I brought it to my chambers. That's what I wanted to say…"

"You're not the maid I mistook you for," the captain said, stepping closer to the mirror. "Perhaps a lady in waiting, sent to the castle to find yourself a fine husband."

Emma sighed, feeling frustrated. She had a plan, and she just wanted the chance to explain it. "I have no need of a husband."

"Aye, well, not _now_ that you've installed me in your chamber, Emma. I doubt many husbands would accommodate such an arrangement."

Captain Hook stared at her lasciviously, and Emma felt her face grow hot under his gaze. Determined to see this through, she gathered her thoughts and began again.

"I fear that I have misled you, Captain Hook. I am, in fact, heir to the new queen."

"A princess then, who most definitely should know better than to cavort with a pirate in her bedroom."

"A princess who wishes to help you, but asks in return that you cease your ridiculous posturing. I can hardly be seduced through glass after all."

"That is true," he said thoughtfully. "And that is all you wish from me, your highness?"

"Emma will suffice. And no, there is one other thing I require; you must tell me your story."

"My…story?"

"Yes." Emma nodded emphatically. "I will study magic to the best of my ability and try to figure out a way to release you from this prison, but even if I cannot then at least you won't be completely lost to history. Is that…acceptable, Captain?"

The captain looked thoughtful, his hand coming up to grasp at his chin. "So even if this is to be my final resting place, you will at least accompany me during my last days?"

"That seems a very morbid way of putting it, but yes. I suppose that is correct."

"Then I accept your proposal. Emma."

"Let us begin." Emma pulled a chair over so she could take a seat in front of the mirror. "Now, you must tell me what I can call you."

"You have tired of my moniker already?"

"I believe that you continuing to hide behind such a name defeats the purpose of our arrangement because, if I am to help you, then I need to understand the man to whom I am making such an offer. Mirror magic relies on a connection, does it not? And I cannot make a connection with a metal hook like I can with the man who wears it."

Emma half-expected that Captain Hook would make some remark about the kind of connection he could make with her if the mirror was not in his way. But instead he walked around the desk, returning with his own chair which he placed opposite Emma, the leather he wore creaking as he sat down.

"Killian Jones. My name was…is, Killian Jones."

* * *

Emma found that she felt more purposeful after that. Her magic lessons were still long and tedious, but she could at least find a reason for endless attempts to make a candle light on its own.

She didn't tell the Blue Fairy where her new-found enthusiasm for lessons had come from, and if her teacher did notice, then she didn't see fit to make any comment. And, although she had made her agreement with Killian Jones, Emma hadn't told him the whole truth, either. She wanted to save him, that was true, but it was an act that would benefit Emma as much as it did the man she rescued. This, she felt, was her first real chance to prove herself a Saviour, to show that her magic was a true match for the Evil Queen's and that the role she'd been assigned at birth had not been a terrible mistake.

Her less-than-altruistic reasons for wanting to free Killian from the mirror became less important, perhaps, when she was actually in his presence. Alone, in her room, she had the chance to satisfy her curiosity about the man who had so enraged the Evil Queen that he was still her prisoner all these years later.

At first he had been less than forthcoming, despite the bargain they had struck. All Emma could prise from her were the bare basics of his history; his name, the name of his ship, and the fact he had been a pirate for a very long time.

It was only a chance glimpse of the picture etched in ink into the skin of his arm that gave Emma the loose thread she needed to unravel the mystery of the man in the mirror.

Her name was Milah, and he had loved her very much. So much that his quest for revenge on the sorcerer who had claimed her life, a sorcerer to whom she had once been married, had led him to spend years trapped on the hellish island of Neverland. When he finally made his way back to the Enchanted Forest again he had been captured by the Evil Queen and offered the chance for freedom if he agreed to kill the queen's mother.

He had tried to press his advantage, failed, and been thrown in his glass prison when she grew angry with him. And there he had remained ever since.

"And would you still seek your revenge, if you had the chance?" Emma asked.

"Yes. I've waited over two hundred years already. I would not waste a moment in tracking down the Crocodile if I was freed."

"Not even to thank the one who freed you?"

"Perhaps just long enough for that, Emma." He gave her a smile which she only just managed to return.

Emma wondered if that would be sufficient if the time came, if she would truly be satisfied with a mere cursory thank you before the man was off to wreak havoc on the seas again.

Certainly his tale was compelling one, more thrilling than even the most lurid novels that Emma had managed to secretly look through while in the library. It was made all the more exciting by being told to her by the man himself and, soon, she found herself looking forward to the moments when she could have him recount another adventure of his past, casting himself in the part of blood-thirsty pirate driven mad for revenge against the evil creature who robbed him of his love.

Killian Jones played this part very well, and Emma, who understood that it was a performance, enjoyed it none the less. After a while, though, she found that she enjoyed the moments when his mask slipped even more.

"I hate formal dinners…I never remember to use the fish fork at the correct time. Why do they have to have all that cutlery anyway," she grumbled, after an afternoon spent trying to materialise a bird's egg, and failing time and time again.

"Work from the outside in," Kilian instructed, but Emma pulled a face because it was a rule she'd heard time and time again, after all, and still she seemed to fail.

"All right then, try this. Just wait and see what everyone else uses. Pick the person most likely to get it right and keep your eyes on them as much as you can."

"That's actually…not a bad idea," Emma mused. "And did you have to hold some foreign dignitary to ransom in order to hear about it?"

"Actually, my brother suggested it to me."

Emma frowned. "You have a brother?"

"Had. Once…a long time ago."

"Do you know what happened to him?" She could see the pain that crossed Killian's handsome face, and almost immediately regretted asking.

"If you don't wish to tell me, then you don't have to," Emma said, as gently as she could, but Killian shook his head.

"No. You offered to hear my history…all of my history. You should hear this too. Liam died, in the service of a corrupt king."

"How?"

"He was poisoned by the plant the king had sent him to collect under pretext of it being an aid to healing. Instead it was to be a weapon for use against any who opposed him. Liam died in my arms."

"I'm so sorry."

"It was a long time ago now. And that king has gone, over-thrown as tyrants always are."

"Did you…do that?" What she really wanted to know was would he do it again? Had he formed such a burning hatred of royalty that they made him sick to his very stomach or could he understand that not all rulers were like that terrible king?

"I…played some small part. My rebellion was more against the yoke of service than a well-reasoned plan to rid our realm of a tyrant. Mostly I was selfish, and cruel because opposing the king gave me leave to be so. I thought it was freedom, but really it was another kind of mantle instead."

Emma was a little lost for words. What had begun as a complaint about the myriad of cutlery choices to be found on the palace tables, had become something entirely different now. She was hearing this man's confession, and she wasn't sure she was truly qualified to absolve him of anything.

"Promise me one thing, Emma. Promise me that, magic or no, you'll be a just ruler." His words were low and earnest.

"I will. I will always remember this…and I will."

Killian nodded. "Then I have served some purpose, and the royal I serve now is at least worthy of my high regard."

His words hung in the air for a moment, as Emma tried to understand the full extent of their meaning. Did he mean to pledge his allegiance to her if he was freed, or was this simply a game he was playing in order to achieve that freedom in the first place?

She couldn't tell. And she had to dress for dinner anyway. She said her goodbyes, and covered up the mirror once more.

* * *

As the weeks and months wore on Emma found herself enjoying the company of her captive pirate more and more. She started to look forward to waking, so she could peer into the mirror and wish him a good morning. She retreated to her room after lessons and lunch, so she could update him on her progress and listen to his calm words of encouragement. Best of all was when, late at night when she should be sleeping, she would wrap herself in a blanket and open up the world inside the mirror, so she could visit Killian again.

He would reward her with fantastic tales of his adventures, descriptions of sailing into the harbour at Agrabah, the air thick and perfumed, and warm long after the sun had set. He would tell her of skirting the ice that perpetually surrounded Arendelle, and of the deep green of the water around the Maritime Kingdom, and the silver fish that would dive through the bow-waves of the ship and escort them through the narrow channels.

Killian made the world outside the castle sound far more exciting than anything she had ever experienced within its walls, his own enthusiasm shining through as he spoke. He looked younger in those moments; his eyes bright and his hand moving rapidly to illustrate the points he was making.

"You sound as though you miss the sea very much, Killian."

"Aye. I do. There's nothing quite like sailing into uncharted waters to make you realise you're alive."

"And that is what you'll do when you're free? Find a ship and sail away?"

Killian frowned slightly, and looked as though he hadn't actually considered that possibility. Perhaps he was giving up hope of ever being rescued, Emma thought, silently vowing to work harder on her magic.

"I…suppose. I daresay there won't be much else for me to do."

"Would you take me with you?"

That question made Killian look downright surprised. "I…don't suppose that you could leave, could you?"

"No. I don't suppose I could." She was the Saviour after all, and Misthaven needed its Saviour. At least that was what she'd been told all her life and there was no reason to believe it would change any time soon. And if her magic was strong enough to release Killian, then she'd simply be more of an asset to her parents.

"It's a nice thought, though," Emma said, awkwardly. "I'd like to see some of the world. One day."

"It's a lovely thought, Emma."

"Goodnight, Killian."

"Goodnight, my princess."

* * *

Emma's magic had grown stronger with her hours of determined practice, perhaps assisted by the advice she'd been given by Mr Gold. She finally managed to make the egg materialise when she let herself be angry about being forced to take it from the nest where it belonged.

Killian proved to be a great help with some of the lessons that demanded more erudition than emotion. The Blue Fairy's response to Emma's progress had been to assign her more reading than she'd ever had in the past and Emma found the reading easier to understand if she had someone to talk about it with.

And the only person she really wanted to speak to these days, was Killian.

"I don't even understand this one at all…what language is that quotation in?" she asked, frowning at the book in annoyance.

"If you hold it up to the mirror, perhaps I could take a look." Emma did as she was asked, and Killian leaned in close to see the near-minuscule printing in the old, dusty book. If there hadn't been a mirror between then she could have no doubt inhaled his scent, their faces were so close together.

Which was a ridiculous thing to even think about when her purpose here was to rescue the man and send him on his way.

"Ah! I think that's actually Greek."

"Greek?"

"Yes. Something along the lines of, _The flame will light in the presence of the true saviour_."

"You…you can read that?"

"Aye. Well it's surprising what they teach you in the Royal Navy."

It was hard to imagine Killian in a stiff, naval uniform, so different from the clothes he normally wore. She had noticed that he wore his long black coat less these days, and even his waistcoat was often missing, leaving him only in the soft shirt which he barely bothered to button. It was nice, Emma thought, that he felt able to put aside the trappings of being a pirate and let her see that he was just a man.

She simply wasn't going to question the wisdom of spending so much time in the company of one man, dressed or…otherwise.

"Well, anyway. It doesn't help us with the mirror." She placed the book down on her bed. "Oh, but I did manage to move something today. I might be able to do it again, want to see?"

"Very much so, Emma."

Eager to prove her ability to do something even if she couldn't read Greek, and more than a little anxious to win Killian's approval, she cast around the room for something she could move with her magic. "There! Over on the table, the bowl of cherries. I'll bring those over to me."

"That would be something to see. I can't remember the last time I had something as delicious as that. Even compared to navy rations, the food here is…barely palatable."

"If I could, I'd share them…but hopefully soon it won't be an issue because you'll be free to go off and plunder all the cherries you could ever want."

"I…yes. I suppose so." Emma thought that he sounded a little less than thrilled about the possibility of terrorising the high seas again than she had hoped he would, but she pressed on with her demonstration, closing her eyes and concentrating hard on the cherries and on the feeling of anger she felt that Killian was still trapped there in the mirror, that she couldn't just offer him some fruit, or hold his hand or simply be in the same space with him when she needed him to translate Greek for her.

When she opened her eyes the cherries weren't on the table any longer, but they weren't in her hands either, and she looked around, confused, for where she might have accidentally sent them.

Once again, she'd failed.

In her despair it took her a moment to notice that Killian was speaking to her. "Emma. Emma, love…look?"

She turned to the mirror and there was Killian, holding the bowl of cherries. For a moment she was stunned, wondering how on earth she'd managed to get it so wrong. And then she realised; maybe she'd actually got it _right_.

"Quick! Killian, touch the mirror. Now! There might be a connection, or…or a gap in the magic. Something I can use to pull you through. Quick!"

Killian did as she asked, and Emma placed her hand up against the glass and felt again like she was dipping her hand into a shallow pool of water. Only this time she didn't meet resistance, at least not as she expected. This time the water parted fully and she found her hand pressed against someone else's warm flesh and a curve of metal.

This time she was going to get Killian out.

She met his eyes, blue as ever but filled with wonder at what was happening. It took Emma a moment to collect herself as well; she actually had a chance to get him out.

But before she could try to grasp Killian and pull him through, there was a loud crack and, for a moment, Emma wondered if the glass itself had shattered. Killian's hand and hook dropped away as he seemed to be having difficulty remaining upright.

"What's happening?" Emma asked.

"I don't know. Everything's shaking."

Emma could see some rocks fall in the back of the cave making her fear for Killian's safety. She reached further through to try to grab him again, but all she could touch now was a glass barrier.

"No!" Emma cried out, banging the mirror in frustration, while another rock fell in the cave where Killian was trapped.

"Don't worry. I'm…I'm fine. It's fine, Emma. It's fine." Killian held his hand and hook in front of him, as though he was trying to calm a distressed horse.

"But what's happening?"

"I don't know. It's just started…occasionally there are…tremors. But it's stopped now, and I'm not hurt. See?" He pointed at his face and Emma almost sobbed in relief and frustration.

"But what if it happens again?" she asked.

"It doesn't matter. We're close now, I know it. You're bloody brilliant, Emma. Look at what you did today. I'm sure you'll be able to open a portal again. And the next time, I'll make it through. I promise."

* * *

Killian's promises were empty, or perhaps it was that Emma's magic continued to be faulty. She couldn't open the portal again, and each attempt to do so, to send something through to Killian seemed to result in stronger quakes and more destruction.

"The whole cave is falling down!" she cried, after another fruitless attempt.

"Aye. Well, when you get here make sure you bring something to dig me out with."

"It's not funny!" She heard the sound of rocks skittering down the wall behind Killian and he turned his head sharply, giving away just how concerned he was.

"What if I can't get you out?" Emma asked sadly. "What if…what if the place has been there too long? And the Evil Queen's magic won't last any longer. What if it disappears?"

 _What if you disappear?_ Emma thought. _What will I do without you?_

"Then I am content with the knowledge that a princess is the keeper of my history and, Emma…I have enjoyed spending this time with you. If this is the end…"

"Don't say that!"

"If it is," Killian continued firmly. "Then I don't regret a moment of it, and I thank you for being my saviour."

"I'm not anyone's saviour," Emma muttered, blinking back tears, but the mirror flickered, and the connection was lost and she doubted that Killian even heard her words.

* * *

Emma's concern for Killian only grew as it became harder and harder to make his mirror-prison appear and, when she did so, it only revealed the extent to which the place was slowly crumbling around him. He was clearly trying to keep his spirits up, but Emma could not say the same for herself.

She was letting down someone who she truly cared about, who had put his faith in her and she felt worse than she had ever before.

Her sadness did not go unnoticed in the castle, hours of sitting idly in her room refusing food and company gave away her state of mind to the curious staff sent to wait on her, but she couldn't find it in herself to care.

 _Let them wonder_ , she thought.

"The Blue Fairy requests that you join her for your lesson," Mr Gold said stiffly, when he was sent to fetch a listless Emma from her chamber.

"Tell the Blue Fairy that I won't be coming. There's very little point to any of it," Emma replied, not bothering to look away from the window she'd been staring out of. The mirror was covered up in the corner of the room and Emma hadn't dared to even try to contact Killian that morning, too afraid of what she might see.

Mr Gold did not take her words as the dismissal they were intended to be. "I'm sorry to hear that, your highness. I had thought that you were making real progress."

"I'm sorry to say that you thought wrong, Mr Gold. Anger only works for a while and now...well my magic is of little use really. I'll never be the Saviour they want me to be."

"Then perhaps the answer is to be the Saviour you need to be."

It sounded so simple when he said it like that, but Emma expected that it would not be quite so straightforward to sort her own desires from her duty to the kingdom. For the most part she could only think of Killian, and how desperately she wanted to help him, and how miserable she felt at being unable to.

"I'll tell the Blue Fairy you are feeling unwell, your highness," Mr Gold said, and he left the room.

* * *

"No lessons again today, your highness?" Mr Gold asked, as soon as entered the room the next morning.

"I think…no. It seems a little hopeless, really."

Mr Gold nodded his head and looked like he might leave, but he stopped and straightened. "May I speak frankly, your highness?"

"I suppose."

"It seems that magic is the problem, does it not?"

Emma didn't even bother to hide her impatience at his words. "Of course it is. You know only too well that I've struggled with my magic. I see no point in hiding that fact. Saviour, or not, I'm hardly of much use."

"But if there was no magic…if no one had magic, then why would they need you to save them from anything?"

"I suppose they wouldn't. But it hardly matters…I am what I am, and I want to be what they need. I just don't know how."

"There is…I've heard…a land without magic."

Emma turned to look at her steward disbelievingly. "That's a ridiculous notion. No one's ever visited such a place."

"Perhaps they just haven't come back, your highness."

When Mr Gold left the room Emma considered opening up the mirror and asking Killian if he had ever heard of such a place, but she wasn't sure she wanted to risk such a thing. It was growing increasingly painful watching the place crumble around him when they spoke and he might think that she wanted to be rid of magic because she wanted to be rid of him and his magical prison.

Nothing could be further from the truth; she missed him dreadfully, but longed to be free of the torture of watching him slowly disintegrate along with the world he was trapped in. More than anything she wanted to be free of her own culpability in it; her own failure had led to this, after all.

She couldn't save him, and she didn't want to watch him die.

* * *

Emma's state of mind was not only obvious to her staff but to her mother as well, who thought that the best way to help her daughter find some joy in her own existence would be to hold a ball. Emma could think of nothing worse than being paraded in front of a castle full of strangers; the kingdom's Saviour, brought out to be admired and lauded.

It was a sham, and she couldn't even find it in herself to enjoy the chance to dress up in the beautiful blue and silver gown her mother sent to her. She allowed the maids to dress her without complaint, sat still while they jammed heavy pins into her hair, and accepted the fan they passed into her hands.

It was only when she was about to leave her chambers that Emma felt a sudden desire to see Killian…just to know he was still there, and she shooed everyone from the room before uncovering the mirror and opening the portal.

Killian was sitting at the desk, and his head jerked up as she appeared on his side of the mirror, before he called out "Emma!", as though her visit was the most unexpected delight.

The joy in his voice just made her feel worse about everything. She could see that more of the cave had disappeared since she'd last seen it. "You look…beautiful," Killian said, quietly. That simply made her more despondent because she hadn't come to him just so that she could earn his admiration.

"There's a ball tonight. I have to go."

"Of course. You'll be the belle of it, my…Emma."

"That hardly matters when you're stuck here and I can't get you out."

"Is that why you're so sad?" Killian smiled, but it didn't quite meet his eyes, and he came closer to the mirror. "You should go. Enjoy yourself. I'm sure there will be…a dozen…more even, eligible young men lining up to dance with such a princess."

"I don't want to dance," Emma said stubbornly, although that wasn't strictly the truth. She just couldn't imagine dancing with any of those nameless, faceless boys that Killian's words conjured up in her mind.

"I'm sure there will be other entertainments."

"I don't want to be entertained. Not but something as trivial as this…I don't want…I just want…" She couldn't finish the words, wasn't quite willing to risk saying out loud what she felt in her heart. She wanted Killian out of the mirror and by her side. She wanted to dance with him, she wanted to know what it was like to stand beside him, and have him take her hand, and….more. She wanted everything, and all she had to offer in return was nothing.

"Emma…love. You need to live your life. You can't wait around here watching me…well, you should be elsewhere. Your people need you. You're their Saviour after all."

"But I wanted to save you!"

"I'm beyond saving now Emma. Please, just go." Killian turned his back to the mirror as the cave shook around him. The mirror turned black for a moment before clearing to show Emma her own reflection; a princess, dressed in a fine gown with a tear-streaked face.

* * *

Emma managed to get herself mostly under control by the time she appeared at the ball, but she hardly felt like joining in the festivities. Instead she watched from the edges, refusing all requests to dance and wishing that she had a place to hide.

Her mother found her standing near the table laden with food, although Emma herself had no appetite.

"Are you feeling well, Emma? I heard you've been poorly."

"Yes…I mean, no. I mean…Mama, do you ever feel like you're in the wrong life?"

Queen Snow looked thoughtful. "Is this about Princess Alexandra's engagement? Because I don't think you should feel as though you've been left on the shelf yet, Emma."

"No. No, I just wonder what life would be like if…if there was no magic in the world? Don't you?"

Her mother's face creased in concern. "Emma, what's this about?"

"Nothing. Not really. I just heard something about a land without magic."

Queen Snow sighed, and looked around as though she was afraid of being over-heard. "They say that's where the curse would have taken everyone if Regina had been able to finish casting it."

"The Evil Queen's curse?"

"Yes. In the hour you were born we could see it coming…the great cloud of magic, and then you came into the world Emma and it stopped. And when we found her…Regina, she was dead."

"Did I…did I do that?"

"We'll never know. But I think so…not directly perhaps. But what you represented; hope, love, a future…all the things Regina tried so hard to reject. They were no match for her in the end."

"But she was so powerful?" Emma asked, trying to reconcile her mother's image of her with the own failure she carried in her heart.

"She was resourceful, and determined and could be very, very cruel. But she did have help. The Dark One created the curse and Regina was merely his conduit. Or would have been, had she not failed."

"What happened to the Dark One?"

"We don't really know. He was in our dungeon for a while, but he escaped."

"What was his name?"

"We don't say that…names have power." Queen Snow looked at Emma very earnestly. "He escaped because we gave him your name and he could harness its magic to break the very bars of the cell. You weren't even born then, but that's when we knew how powerful you'd be Emma."

Queen Snow squeezed her arm. "You are more powerful than you know Emma, but you need to give yourself to be permission to be a girl as well as a Saviour. You've always been both."

Before Emma could say anything else, her father appeared and swooped her mother off to the dancefloor. She knew that she should feel comforted by her mother's words, but they had not had the desired effect at all. Emma still felt hollow and empty and far from either a Saviour or a girl.

She was simply a vessel for everyone else's desires.

When she returned to her room, long before the last guests had called for their carriages, she felt despondent and made no attempt to hide it from Mr Gold.

"It's been a trying night for you, I suppose, your highness," he said, holding the door to her room open for her.

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, these events. They just serve as a reminder I imagine. That your parents will deny you the very thing that makes them so special, that made you in fact. After all, you can hardly expect to ever find true love if you are always to be their Saviour, your highness."

Emma didn't want to even respond to that remark; it was far too close to what she believed herself to be of any comfort, and far too likely to send her into a deep despair.

"That will be all Mr Gold." Emma stepped inside and closed the door, very pointedly ignoring the mirror as she readied herself for bed.

* * *

The next morning came and Emma woke late. Her first thought was of the mirror or, more specifically, of Killian, but she recalled his words from the night before and could not bring herself to attempt to visit with him.

She couldn't decide what would be worse; finding he was no longer there, or finding out he no longer desired her company.

Emma sat up in bed and noticed immediately that there was a book sitting on the bedside table which hadn't been there the night before. She picked it up and turned it over; the cover was red leather, but unmarked by a title and the pages were filled with dense, black handwriting.

She looked through the book, attempting to decipher the words crammed so closely together on each page. Much of it made no sense to Emma, possibly it was written in another language altogether. Killian might have been of some use, she realised, but there was no way in which she would risk contacting him just to ask for his help with translation. Not when he was so clearly disappointed in her.

Instead she spent the morning sitting on her bed puzzling over the pages, trying to figure out the meaning behind it all. It was too much of a coincidence for it to have just suddenly appeared for no reason. It was a message, Emma was certain of it…some kind of answer to her problems. Because it wasn't just any book; it was thrumming with magic, Emma could feel it rolling off the pages and soaking into her hands as she read. A warm, buzzing feeling that made her feel agitated and restless, like she knew that something was about to happen.

And then she found it, the page that described the Dark One, warned the reader never to call on his powers unless they were prepared to make a deal, but gave his name nonetheless.

_Rumplestiltskin._

Emma closed the book with a resounding thud and began pacing the room. It was a ridiculous notion, one that was doomed to failure…but there was hope as well, was there not? And hadn't her mother said how powerful that emotion was?

Resolving to push through with her new plan, Emma quickly uncovered the mirror. It took several tries to bring up the image of Killian's cave and, even then, the mirror shook and what she could make out was blurry.

"Killian?"

"Aye, love. I'm here." She could just make out his form as it came closer to the mirror.

"I just wanted to say…I just wanted…" There was a loud crack and the mirror shook more violently. "Just hold on! Hold on! I'm going to get you out!"

"Emma…"

"No. Just hold on. I'm going to speak to the Dark One and…"

"What?" The noise of the cave falling down was making it difficult to carry on a conversation.

"The Dark One. It's all right…I have a plan, Killian." She touched the mirror. "I have a plan."

"Emma, no!" Killian sounded horrified, but Emma felt certain this was the right choice. "Emma you have to know…he's…" But whatever Killian was going to say was lost when a large chunk of rock landed near him, forcing him to jump to the side.

"I have to go now. But I promise I'll be back, Killian. I promise."

"Emma! Wait!"

The connection disappeared, taking away any chance Emma had to heed his words. She picked up the book and speaking clearly into the room read the name, "Rumplestiltskin. Rumplestiltskin. Rumple…"

The door opened and Emma jumped, before realising it was only Mr Gold entering. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry I thought you wanted me." He was suddenly enveloped in a swirl of dark-red smoke and, when it cleared, the man standing there no longer looked like a man. It was still Mr Gold, at least Emma thought it was, but with wild eyes, and sharp fingernails and skin that was an unnatural iridescent shade that seemed almost green.

Emma recoiled, visibly, but the creature just laughed. "Rumplestiltskin, at your service dearie." He gave a high-pitched laugh, and bowed, theatrically.

"You're the Dark One?"

"That I am."

"So you've been here all this time? Have you come to hurt me?" Emma tried to summon some magic that might protect her, but nothing came and she settled for taking several steps away from the sorcerer in front of her.

"No, no. If I wanted to do _that_ then I'd've hardly spent all this time bringing you your tea, would I now? No, I've come to help you, Emma. Help you get that happy ending we both know you really deserve."

"By sending me to a land without magic?"

"By sending everyone to a land without magic. That's the point, dearie. With no magical creatures to defeat who needs a Saviour, eh? You'd be just Emma, just Emma who can do anything her little heart desires with her new found freedom."

"And what will you do there?"

"Me? Oh, don't worry about me, dearie. I have my own reasons for going there, but that doesn't mean our interests don't intersect. You scratch my back…well, you get the picture." He twirled his claw-like fingers and gave a delighted giggle.

"But the Evil Queen died casting the curse," Emma protested. "What makes you think I'd be any different?"

"Because you're far more powerful than she ever was," Rumplestiltskin replied, his head tilting to one side. "The magic you give off…I can smell it every time I enter the room." He leaned forward and sniffed the air next to Emma, making her shudder involuntarily.

"In the end Regina didn't have the heart for it after all," he continued. "Seems the price she had to pay broke her. Shame really…I spent a lot of time on her education."

"And on mine?"

"You didn't need so much help," he replied, gleefully. "And that's the beauty of this wee partnership, dearie. I get what I want, you get what you want and the only price is a mere trifle that I'm sure your parents will never begrudge you. They do so love their daughter, don't they? Quite touching that. Well, shall we start?"

He waved his hands and a cauldron appeared in the middle of Emma's room, already bubbling with a mixture that made Emma's nose burn as she inhaled it. One more wave of a hand and a small vial appeared in his hands, its contents a thick, dark purple that looked almost alive.

"Shall we ask them to join us?" Rumplestiltskin inquired, almost as though he was still the servant he had pretended to be.

"No. I just need to…to ask you something first."

"Anything, dearie. Ask away."

"If there is no magic in this new world, then what happens to magical objects?"

Rumplestiltskin frowned. "That's an interesting question, dearie. Did you have something particular in mind?"

"Well…"

"A mirror perhaps. You know I wondered about that, assumed you'd discovered some old toy of Regina's that everyone had forgotten about. Tell me what is it you've been seeing in there?" He took a step closer and suddenly looked far more menacing than he had a moment ago. "Some lost minion of her majesty's, hmm?"

"How did you?"

"Oh, it's not difficult to work out, dearie. I'm surprised your dear mother hasn't come in here and smashed it before now, just like she did with the mirror that trapped Cora. It's not Cora in there, is it? I don't think I'm quite up to renewing that acquaintance today."

"No."

"Didn't think so. Your posture would be so much better if it was."

"But the person who is in there…I need to get him out. So…if I agree to your curse, then you'll help me with that?"

Rumplestiltskin looked thoughtful. "Sure. Why not? Let's make it a real party; you, your parents…we'll need them for the next part…the mystery mirror person who's been taking up all your time. One of the Black Guards was it, hmm? The Huntsman? I never did like that one. Right, let's take a look."

He waved a hand in front of the mirror and the scene in the cave appeared again, although there was less to see than there ever had been before. Most of the furniture was gone now; smashed to pieces or covered by fallen rock, and for a moment Emma thought Killian may have suffered the same fate, but he stepped into view and she felt her heart expand a little with the relief.

But then she saw the expression on his face was one of pure terror. "Emma! You have to get out of there. Now!"

"Oh, well this is just delightful," Rumplestiltskin trilled, clapping his hands together like a child with a particularly pleasing gift. "I know I said party, but this is simply too good to be true."

"You know…wait. You're the crocodile."

"I have been called that. Mainly by the Captain, there," he inclined his head towards to the mirror where she could see Killian banging on his side of the glass calling her name. It sounded like he was very far away now, and getting further all the time.

"We have to get him out," she said, pushing aside the fear that was starting to build in her belly. Once again she'd failed miserably.

"Oh. But I kind of like him where he is," Rumplestiltskin replied, and he raised his hand in front of him, pointing it at the mirror. Killian clutched at his throat, his face turning red and his eyes wide and glassy.

"Stop it!" Emma yelled, and she felt the anger pulse through her, magic along with it, before a great burst of light shot out of her fingertips, engulfing Rumplestiltskin and the mirror. When it cleared Killian was slumped on the ground, breathing heavily, and he was on this side of the mirror.

Emma ran to him, crouching beside him and touching where she could. He was real, he was here, and he was safe.

Or, at least, he would be when she could get rid of her unwelcome visitor.

"There you go, dearie. I told you anger was a marvel. You just needed the right incentive to get him out. Just in the nick of time, too. All that magic you've been pouring in there has been destroying all of Regina's hard work. That's why the world in there is collapsing; it's been you doing it all along. Quite a nice job…if I do say so myself."

"You leave her alone!" Killian cried out, the words hoarse and the effort to make them clear on his face.

"Is that any way to greet your oldest acquaintance? Shame on you, Captain. And it's been such a long time, as well. I really thought you'd met your match in Regina. Pity we don't have time to reminisce, but I think we should get started, don't you?" He waved a hand and Killian was on his feet, although not steadily. Emma stood beside him but wasn't sure if she should offer help.

"Now, dearie. Will you do the honours, or shall I?" Rumplestiltskin sounded like he was presiding over a tea party, but there was an underlying menace to his tone that made Emma fearful for Killian's safety. He may be out of the mirror-world now, but he was hardly out of danger.

"With what?" she asked.

Rumplestiltskin smirked. "Why taking the captain's heart, of course. I thought after all this time you might like the pleasure."

"I…no. I don't want to hurt him."

"Really? Because he means so much to you, I suppose. All the attention he's been lavishing on you when no one else would…oh no. That's right. He was trapped there, wasn't he? Didn't exactly have a choice in the matter. And you think that now that he's free the two of you are going to sail off into the sunset? Are you really that naïve, dearie? You think a filthy pirate, like _that_ , is going to want you?"

He couldn't keep the contempt out of his voice now. "No, he'll be off without you, soon as he can, now he's free. Free to roam every port in search of someone better, free to steal anyone's wife right from under their noses."

"I didn't steal Milah!" Killian interjected. "She was free to choose, and she was only ever mine because she chose me. You just couldn't live with that, and then you killed her because of it."

"Maybe so, but it hardly matters now. You have your princess and she means _so_ much to you, does she? More than the woman you're still harping on about all these hundreds of years later. I don't know, what do you think princess? Think he's really over her yet?"

Killian turned his head slightly. "Emma, please…"

"Enough!" Her own voice was loud in her ears. "I've heard enough." Carefully avoiding looking at Killian, she kept her eyes on Rumplestiltskin. "I wouldn't even know how to take his heart, anyway," she said casually. "That doesn't seem like something my magic would do."

"Oh come now, dearie. You underestimate yourself. It's quite simple; you just think about what you want, and you take it." Rumplestiltskin demonstrated by closing his fist around an imaginary heart and pulling it towards him. "He can't move at the moment, I've made sure of that. Off you go, dearie. Give it a go, why don't you."

"I don't think I want to try." She was determined to stand her ground on the matter; the thought of Killian's heart outside his body made her feel ill. No matter what happened from here, no matter whether or not he was using her to escape his prison, she wouldn't subject him to that.

Emma had heard far too many stories of the Evil Queen's deeds to ever want to take a heart.

But Rumplestiltskin would not be put off. "Fine then, if you won't do it, I guess I'll have to do it myself."

She watched in horror as Rumplestiltskin plunged his hand into Killian's chest, the pirate's face contorting in pain as he did so. In a moment he pulled his hand free and there, clutched in his scaly-looking fist, was something red and pulsing.

"There you go, dearie," he said, holding it out to her. "Go ahead and take it. It's exactly what we needed for the curse. I had intended to involve your parents…I thought I'd found a loophole for them, two hearts beat as one and all of that…but never mind now!" He waved his free hand in front of his face. "Better to just get on with it, and then we can all continue on with our nice, new, magic-free existences."

Rumplestiltskin turned to Killian. "Well, some of us can, anyway."

"I won't do it," Emma said, refusing to take the offered heart and shaking her head. "It's not what I want at all."

"But you want to be free of all this Saviour nonsense, don't you dearie?"

"It's not nonsense, Emma," Killian said. "It's who you are. You can't change that. It doesn't matter what else you do Emma…you were always my Saviour."

"Come on, before he gets to the poetry," Rumplestiltskin said impatiently, but Emma couldn't take her eyes off Killian's. The longer she held his gaze the more she began to experience the oddest feeling. It wasn't magic, at least not as she'd ever felt magic before, but it was something. Something that wrapped around her and made her feel strong and brave and loved.

"No!" She said it with such vehemence that Rumplestiltskin took a step backwards, a wave of some of her magic washing over him.

But it simply served to make him angry. "You girls are all the same," he spat out. "First Regina, now you. All caught up in your notions about love… that's what stopped it, the first time. All that effort I put into training her…years and years of watching her conjure apples and then at the last moment, at the _very_ last moment she wonders about the soulmate she didn't choose and her heart broke. All my work, for _nothing_! If you think I'm going to miss another opportunity like that, then you are very much mistaken, dearie. If you won't crush his heart, then I will. Either way he's not walking out of here, but one way you will."

"If you touch her fiend, I will rip your heart right out with my hook," Emma didn't dare tear her eyes away from Rumplestiltskin to react to Killian's words of warning, which, she feared, were an empty threat anyway. The Dark One's magic was strong and she doubted that Killian could move even if he wanted to. All she could do was send some of her own magic to him, and hope that worked to at least ease his pain.

Emma started to back away from Rumplestiltskin, intent on leading him as far away from Killian as possible, hoping that she could find a way to get the heart out of his hand and protect the man she had come to care for.

_Love. It was love._

"No one has to die. Surely there's another way? I mean, we can all go to this land, can't we? And live happily without magic."

"If you think I can be happy while that disgusting criminal gets everything he never deserved, then you're a fool," Rumplestiltskin spat out, advancing towards Emma and turning his back to Killian in the process. "He deserves to die for what he did to my family!"

"I don't believe that."

"Won't, because he's tricked you like he tricks everyone. Perhaps you're better off suffering the same fate as Milah. I saved her from him, and I could save you, too. Maybe I need to make him crush your heart and cast the curse…seems like a fitting punishment, don't you think, dearie?"

Emma never got to answer that question. There was a blur of movement behind her and she realised that Killian had broken free of his magical bonds and pushed Rumplestiltskin towards the mirror. Emma drew on all the magic she could find in her soul; all her anger, all her strength, all her love and sent it out in a great wave of white light.

The mirror's surface rippled and the portal opened, just in time for Killian to push a surprised Rumplestiltskin through it, smashing the glass with his hook as soon as the demon was gone. And then he stood there, with broken glass at his feet, breathing heavily.

"Killian!" Emma cried out, and he turned towards her sharply. "Your heart."

"Aye. Well if the demon survives in there long enough to crush it then it will be a sacrifice well made. And if it's gone along with him…then I suppose the same. You freed me Emma, I couldn't let him trap you."

"Because you're grateful?"

"Because I'm…" Killian's voice dropped away and he looked at his feet. "Because I love you, Emma. For a long time I didn't think I was capable of letting go of my first love, but then you came into my world and Emma…I know I'm not worthy of your love. I've been a villain; I've been selfish and cruel and I let my vengeance rule over me for far too long. I can't expect that you would ever love me in return. Whether my heart beats in my chest or not…it's belonged to you for far longer than I care to admit."

"Killian…look," Emma opened the hands she'd been cupping and held up the bright, throbbing object; mostly red with a few dark shadows buried in its depths. "I do have your heart."

Killian looked at first the heart, then her face in awe. "How?"

"I simply thought about what I wanted, and it came to me."

"Then I wasn't lying, you do have my heart."

Emma looked up at Killian, who was smiling down at her. She felt a little shy now, uncertain of what came after declarations of love.

"But perhaps you should try putting it back, love."

"Yes. Of course. I'm sure I can…I just need to think about what I want…" she pushed the heart hard against his chest, felt her magic flow through her fingertips and the flesh part at her touch, which made Killian wince just a little. "There. That's better."

"Aye, it is."

Emma kept her hand pressed to his chest, feeling the solid beat of his heart under warm skin, not quite daring to believe all this was actually happening, that Killian was finally here, finally safe.

"You know, I think I have figured out what Saviours do," she said.

"Oh? And what's that, love."

"They save the people they love. And then they live happily ever after."

"Well, I've yet to see you fail, Princess."

For a moment everything was still and quiet, and then Killian bent down and pressed his lips to Emma's, tenderly, reverently, almost as though he was afraid of hurting her. Moments passed and tenderness gave way to passion, a great consuming need to prove that they were both alive and that nothing would ever part them again.

There was a flash of light and heat, a rainbow that started somewhere in Emma's heart and pushed outwards, through Killian and the room and then burst in a great wave which rocked the castle on its foundations.

"What was that?" she asked, breathlessly, pulling back and looking round the room. The mirror, and all its broken shards had disappeared, as had the book she'd found and the cauldron that Rumplestiltskin had conjured. The only evidence that any of it had happened, was Killian himself, still holding her close.

"Don't you know, Emma?" Killian asked, a smile playing on his lips. "It's you."

"Me?"

"Giving me back my happy ending."

"With me?"

"Only with you, Emma. Always with you."

"Oh." It was an overwhelming feeling, to be able to give herself so fully to one person and receive so much back in return. But she would have to wait to examine it further, there were footsteps approaching her door and her father's voice called out "Emma?"

She slipped her hand in Killian's. "Ready?"

"Aye, Emma."

"Good."

There was a knock at the door and her mother called out, "Emma? Are you all right? Can we come in?"

"Come in," Emma called, and she squeezed Killian's hand, drawing her strength from the place she'd been drawing it for months now; the man she'd saved from the mirror, who'd saved her in turn. The man she loved more than anything or anyone else.

**Thanks for reading!**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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